Silent Poetry
by theicemenace
Summary: Steve finally learns to dance.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Many thanks to ladygris for the Beta work once again.

Namaste,

Sandy

**Avengers**

**Silent Poetry**

_The roaring of the engines almost drowned out the voice on the radio. This would be his last chance to talk to the woman he was falling in love with. "__Peggy?"_

"I'm here_."_

_Peggy's voice was strained, emotional. Couldn't be helped. If this didn't get done, millions of people would die. "__I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance."_

_She sniffed and he knew she was crying. "_Alright. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club._"_

_With a smile, he nodded though she couldn't see it. "You got it."_

_"_Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late! Understood?_"_

"_You know, I still don't know how to dance." _

_Peggy sniffed again. "_I'll show you how. Just be there._"_

The dream ended just as it always did for Steve Rogers. With the horrible vision of the cold North Atlantic coming up to meet him and Peggy's voice echoing in his head reminding him not to be late for their date.

Steve sat up on the side of his bed rubbing the back of his head and trying to banish the ghosts of those he'd lost from his mind, but they wouldn't stay gone forever. They came at him in times of stress, fatigue, or moments when he let his guard down.

New York, and the world, had survived the Chitauri attack, the visible scars long gone. All that remained were the recollections of those who survived. And now, what was he supposed to do? He'd spent months helping to reclaim his Brooklyn neighborhood. Granted, it hadn't been as badly damaged as Manhattan, but with the influx of people whose homes and businesses had been destroyed, it had become a dangerous place. Steve found that if he made his presence known to the less savory denizens, there was less trouble for the police to deal with.

When everything was back to normal, the one thing that stayed the same was the fact that he was a man out of time. Seventy years had passed since the crash and he'd missed all of it. And he still hadn't learned to dance.

Steve wanted to get on with his life, start dating again, but he didn't know how things worked now, what the rules were. From what he'd seen on television, the rules were fluid, so he had to be. Trouble was he didn't think he could go against his nature. In his time, a man didn't jump into bed with a woman on the first date. At least he didn't though there were some who had. But Steve couldn't disrespect women that way.

Another roadblock to getting back into the dating scene was the fact that women were so much bolder these days. They came up to him on the streets and in the grocery stores asking him for anything from going for coffee all the way up to and including sleeping with them for the purpose of having his baby. Steve turned most of the requests down though he did accept the occasional coffee or beer, often finding out that they just wanted to be seen in his company hoping to get their faces on television, in the papers or on the Internet. It seemed that the type of woman he was favored either didn't exist anymore or didn't find him her cup of tea.

Stark had been kind enough to provide the team with a refuge from the publicity engendered by their victory over the Chitauri. Someplace to go where they wouldn't have to deal with reporters, photographers and autograph hounds. Not that Steve minded signing posters, baseball cards or photographs. But sometimes he just wanted to be able to take a walk without being followed or accosted. Stark, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on all the media attention.

Barton had taken to keeping a low profile, coming and going from Stark Tower only at night unless by helijet. Bruce had taken off for some underdeveloped country, returning only when Stark needed his help on a project. Most recently, Bruce had returned, and he and Stark isolated themselves in the lab, coming out only once or twice a week. Thor was spending most of his time with Jane Foster at her lab in New Mexico.

And that led him to Natasha. The SHIELD agent still went on missions and would be gone for anywhere from a few days to several weeks. When she returned, there would be round after round of debriefing followed by down time. She occasionally went out on a date, but not once while he'd been there had she stayed out all night. Now Steve wasn't naïve enough to think that this meant she wasn't sleeping with these men, but the feeling he got from her told him he was right. Her nights on the town seemed more like an attempt to have as normal a social life as possible, considering her profession and notoriety.

Sitting in a chaise lounge on the balcony looking out over the lights of the city, Steve heard the sliding door open and Natasha step out. He jumped to his feet, nodding a greeting. "Ma'am."

She gave him a mild look of rebuke. "I've told you to call me Natasha, Steve."

"Yes, ma'am. Natasha. What brings you out tonight? Thought you'd be off to the symphony or a fancy dinner."

"Felt like staying in." She settled into the second chair and he resumed his seat as well. "What're your plans for this evening?"

Shrugging, Steve looked up at the sky. "Same here."

They were quiet for a while, both lost in thought. Then, Natasha turned to look at him. "I'm getting a drink. Want something?"

"A beer would be nice."

She was back shortly with a bottle for each of them. They twisted the tops off, something Steve rather liked instead of needing a bottle opener, and drank. Natasha held her bottle up and sighed. "I don't know why I bother drinking alcohol."

"Maybe you like the taste."

Chuckling, she brought the bottle to her lips and took a long drink. "There's that. It just seems a waste of good beer, wine and hard liquor when you don't get drunk."

Nodding in agreement, Steve set his bottle on the floor next to his chair, his hands folded over his stomach, totally relaxed. "Agreed. Dr. Erskine said I can't get drunk."

"Oh?"

The way Natasha said that one word told him that he'd captured her interest. "But it's a theory that hasn't been tested."

"Yet." Getting to her feet, Natasha held out her hand, and Steve looked at it stupidly. A smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "Never could resist a challenge and that sounded like one."

Mirroring her smile, he finally took her hand, letting her lead him back inside and over to the bar. Steve slid onto a chair as she went behind the counter.

She set out two shot glasses, opened a bottle of vodka and filled both to the top. "We'll start with something from my country."

They saluted each other and downed the vodka. Immediately, Natasha refilled the glasses and knocked that back too. Steve followed her lead until the bottle was empty then they changed places. "Now we try something home grown."

The square Jack Daniels bottle hit the counter with a thump. He twisted the top off, poured and again they drank. While he was pouring refills, Natasha plucked a straw from the container in front of her, turning it around and around. As she was seldom, if ever, nervous, Steve assumed that she just wanted something to do with her hands in between shots. Her hazel eyes fixed on his with that unblinking stare that disconcerted him. This time, he got the feeling she was doing it on purpose. His theory was confirmed when she asked, "Did you have a girl?"

"Pardon?"

"In 1942. Was there someone special?"

Setting his glass down, Steve leaned on the edge of the bar. "Sort of. Her name was Peggy Carter. We had a date. She was going to teach me to dance."

Sliding off the stool, Natasha picked up her glass and the bottle of Jack. "Come on. I'll teach you."

He followed her, suddenly nervous. "I don't know about this. The music I hear nowadays is…"

"Crap?" Shaking her head and grinning, Natasha again refilled their glasses. "I'm sure we can find something that will suit your sensibilities." Addressing the air, she said, "JARVIS, play some music we can slow dance to."

"_What genre would you care for, Agent Romanoff?_"

"Mmm…Frank Sinatra, circa nineteen-forties."

The AI seemed to think it over. "_I have just the thing, madam._"

_There's a somebody I'm longing to see__  
__I hope that she turns out to be__  
__Someone who'll watch over me_

_I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood__  
__I know I could always be good__  
__To one who'll watch over me_

The music seemed to come from all around them. Not too loud, and not too soft, just slow and easy. "Perfect, JARVIS." Natasha positioned herself next to Steve. "First, the basics. The man leads with his left hand. FYI, swaying side to side as you turn is perfectly acceptable. At least to start."

She demonstrated with her arms in the classic dance pose, shifting her weight from one foot to the other while rotating to the left until she faced forward again.

Steve nodded. "Seems easy enough."

"Try it." When he'd completed a full circle, he looked to her for approval. Though his movements were a bit awkward, she smiled to give him confidence. "Very good. Now let's add a little more distance. When you do it this time, take slightly bigger steps." Again she demonstrated and Steve copied her. Hands on her hips, Natasha gave him a mock reproving glare. "You've done this before."

"Never. When I was in high school, the girls avoided me as if being short, skinny and asthmatic was contagious."

"I find that hard to believe."

Steve inclined his head shyly. "It's true. I've held up more than my share of gym walls, ma'am."

Natasha opened her mouth to tell Steve again not to call her ma'am, choosing instead to ignore it. "Time to change that. Take me in your arms like I showed you."

With the slightest hesitation, he lightly grasped her right hand, his right barely touching her left shoulder as if he thought she might break. JARVIS restarted the same song again, Steve bobbing his head in time to the music for the first couple of bars. He needed to do this at his own speed so Natasha let him work out the moves in his own time. Eventually, he began moving them in a small circle and once he gained confidence, he took bigger steps then even made up his own pattern. The only problem she could see was that he kept his head down so he could see his feet. "Steve."

"Yeah?"

"When you're dancing with a woman, you want her to feel she's the most important person in the room even if it's just for the length of the song so look her in the eyes and smile." He did as she said and she returned the gesture. "Talking is okay, too. Just don't overdo it."

The song ended and Steve stepped back, keeping hold of her left hand and bowing over it. "Thank you, Natasha."

"My pleasure, Steve. Another hint: I'm not your sister, your mother _or_ your maiden aunt. You can hold me a little closer." Letting a small smile come to her, she added. "I promise not to bite…unless you want me to."

Expecting Steve to feel embarrassment over her not so subtle teasing, Natasha was surprised when he laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. Um, JARVIS, can we change the music, please?"

"_Of course, Captain Rogers. Do you have something specific in mind?_"

"I'm feeling good about this so let's speed it up some. How about _The Way You Look Tonight_?"

JARVIS went right into the song without comment.

_Someday, when I'm awfully low__  
__When the world is cold__  
__I will feel a glow just thinking of you__  
__And the way you look tonight__…_

_Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm__  
__And your cheeks so soft__  
__There is nothing for me but to love you__  
__And the way you look tonight…_

~~O~~

Keeping everything Natasha had just taught him in mind, Steve held her a little closer, moving them around the floor in an ever widening circle, changing the pattern to suit himself. Yes, he did feel he was a good student. But that's not all he was feeling. Each time they danced, he lessened the distance between them until her left arm came around his shoulders in a sort of half hug. Close enough for her to lay her head on his shoulder, if she chose, and more than close enough for him to feel the tiny puffs of warm air she exhaled.

She said talking was okay, so Steve said the first thing that came to mind. "A long time ago, I heard that dancing is silent poetry. Now I understand."

Natasha smiled and he felt it where her cheek brushed his collarbone. "Simonides of Ceos. He was an ancient Greek lyric poet who died in 468 B.C. Not much remains of his works. Just the odd papyrus fragment unearthed now and then." She fell silent and he took that as a hint until the song neared the end. Her hand moved up to tickle the short hairs at the nape of his neck, apparently by accident. "Would you like to try a spin?"

"Sure." Without waiting for her to provide instructions, Steve called to mind the times he'd observed couples dancing and managed to turn her once then back into his arms just as the music stopped. "How was that, teacher?"

"Excellent. You're a wonderful student, Steve. One more?"

Without being asked, JARVIS changed the music once more though he kept with the same genre. This time, he went with _I've Got a Crush on You_ making Steve wonder if the AI could read his mind. He dismissed the notion with an internal scowl.

Again, Natasha's hand touched the back of his neck, and for some reason, it felt different than it had previously. Maybe because they were completely alone, if you didn't count the AI. But just in case Natasha hadn't caught onto the truth, Steve sang along with the chorus.

_I've got a crush on you, sweetie pie_

_All the day and night-time hear me sigh_

_I never had the least notion _

_That I could fall with so much emotion_

_Could you coo, could you care_

_For a cunning cottage we could share_

_The world will pardon my mush_

'_Cause I have got a crush, my baby, on you._

~~O~~

As the last note of the song faded, Natasha realized what Steve had been trying to build up the courage to say. For a woman who could change her personality in an instant, she had seldom expressed her own emotions verbally, opting to do so through actions instead. When she called Clint _ebanashka_ it was with affection, he responded by calling her _bliatz_, also with affection. That just how it was with them. They'd once tried having an intimate relationship, but found that they were too much alike for it to work out in the long term, so they kept it platonic even when playing an intimate couple on an op.

But now Natasha had the chance for a real connection with someone, and she would be foolish to let it slip through her fingers. At that thought, she involuntarily tightened her hold on Steve feeling answering pressure in his arms. That more than anything told her what she wanted to know.

JARVIS, usually so discreet, segued into another song. Michael Buble's rendition of _Close Your Eyes_ flowed around them.

_Close your eyes,  
Let me tell you all the reasons why  
I think you're one of a kind.  
Here's to you,  
The one that always pulls us through  
Always do what you gotta do  
You're one of a kind, thank God you're mine._

_You're an angel dressed in armor.  
You're the fair in every fight.  
You're my life and my safe harbor,  
Where the sun sets every night.  
And if my love is blind,  
I don't wanna see the light._

Natasha finally decided to take what was being given to her, again letting actions speak for her by laying her head on Steve's shoulder as her fingertips lightly brushed up to touch him behind the ear. He inhaled sharply telling her more than his words could say.

She unclasped their hands, using both arms to hold him in a hug. He didn't immediacy follow suit, so she encouraged him by taking his hand and placing it on her waist.

The song ended, but neither of them moved to separate. Into the silent room, Natasha said, "Robert Frost."

"Pardon?"

Tilting her head back so she could look into his eyes, Natasha verbalized her feelings in the only way she could. "Robert Frost said that dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire."

They had been swaying ever so slightly, and at her words, Steve stopped moving. "Natasha, are you saying what I think you're saying? 'Cause if you are…"

"If I am…what?"

For an answer, Steve tilted his head toward hers with agonizing slowness, then their lips were touching, sweet and soft. To Natasha, it felt like she'd finally come home. That this is where she was meant to be. Not just in Steve's arms, but in his heart as well.

And in the morning, when she awoke lying next to him, she knew that she'd found true happiness at last.

**TBC**

**Songs:**

"**Someone to Watch Over Me**" is a song composed by George Gershwin with lyrics by Ira Gershwin, 1926.

"**The Way You Look Tonight**" was written by Jerome Kern with lyrics by Dorothy Fields, 1936.

"**I've Got a Crush on You**" is a song composed by George Gershwin with lyrics by Ira Gershwin, 1928.

"**Close Your Eyes**" was written by composer Bernice Petkere in 1933.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Many thanks to ladygris for the Beta work once again.

Namaste,

Sandy

**Avengers**

**Silent Poetry**

**Chapter 2**

When their lips parted, Natasha cupped Steve's cheek with her palm, sliding over his jaw until her fingers touched the back of his neck, letting her thumb traced the curve of his ear. He took the hint and kissed her once again. This time, it was Natasha who called a halt. Taking his hand, she led him down the hall to her room where they kissed just outside the door.

After some urging, she'd managed to get him inside and it was Steve who initiated the next kiss. One torturous step at a time, she guided them over to the bed. He sat down when she pressed on his shoulders so that they were able to see each other's eyes.

Steve had his hands on her waist, and though he had to know she was ready for the next step, he didn't take it. Guessing that he wanted her to make all the moves, most of them at least, Natasha kissed him again, leaning forward as she did, placing a knee on either side of his hips forcing Steve to lie back on the bed. Natasha followed, breaking their kiss and moving her hands to either side of his head to keep her balance as she lay too lay down.

Instinct or need had him wrapping his arms around her in a loose hug, his palms making random circles on her back, never straying below her waist. Lifting herself a few inches, her fingers skimmed over the cotton of his shirt until she came to the buttons. She'd only opened two when Steve stopped their kiss, placing his hands on her shoulders to separate them when it seemed she would continue. In this position, she was better able to reach, and two more had been taken care of by the time he stopped her, covering both of her smaller hands with one of his.

"What's wrong?" she asked, somewhat concerned.

He rose up on one elbow so he could see her better. "Natasha. We have to talk."

Seeing that Steve was determined, she gave up trying to get him out of his shirt, placing her hands on his shoulders and sliding them inward to his neck then to his cheeks. "I already know we both have a clean bill of health. And as far as anything else goes, that's not an issue either. Does that answer your questions?"

"Yes, uh, well, sort of." In the muted lighting of her room, Natasha could see the faintest tinge of pink in his cheeks, and his eyes would no longer meet hers. "You see, there's something you should know before we…"

Frustrated, Natasha got to her feet, brushed the hair from her face then took Steve's hand to lead him to the sofa that looked out over the city. She sat down, and after a momentary hesitation, he joined her. Taking his hand, she held it in her lap. "I'm listening."

~~O~~

Steve talked and true to her word, Natasha listened while he told her what his life had been like before being remade into Captain America. All the times he'd gotten beat up just because he was short and scrawny, the asthma, his numerous attempts to join the army, and his excitement at finally being accepted.

Then came Dr. Erskine and the serum and he, little Stevie Rogers from Brooklyn, became the first of his kind. But Erskine's dream of creating an army of men like Steve died when he was killed by a HYDRA infiltrator. After that, Steve had been sent on one humiliating tour after another to help raise bonds for the war efforts. Skipping over the part where he singlehandedly saved hundreds of POWs and going right to Bucky's death and how he felt responsible. The rest of it she already knew, or had been told by Fury or Coulson.

Not once did Natasha ask why he was giving her his life story. If she had, he would've said that he wanted her to hear it from his POV. But that answer was only partly true. Steve had been hoping that by telling the story in his own words she would understand what he hadn't been able to say. The reason for stopping their activities.

Whether due to fatigue from the mission, all the alcohol they'd drunk or he'd bored her to tears, Natasha fell asleep. Because she listened and didn't judge, Steve had relaxed enough to put his arm around her shoulders. Unwilling to wake her so he could go to his own room, he left her be for a while.

Another of the side effects to being Captain America was that he didn't stiff from sitting in awkward positions for a long time. It did _not_ however change the fact that he still had to relieve himself even if it was less frequently than the average man.

The clock on the wall showed the time as well after two in the morning. Being careful not to wake her, Steve maneuvered her around until she was half on his lap where he could slide one arm under her knees and the other behind her back. Getting to his feet, he carried her into the bedroom and laid her down, her red hair spread out over the snow white pillowcase. A handmade quilt hung over the footboard. Steve unfolded it and draped it over her. He wished her a silent good night, not even getting three steps when she spoke, her voice sleepy and warm.

"Where are you going?"

He returned to her bedside, crouching down so they were eye to eye. "To my room." Natasha opened her mouth to speak, and he rushed to reassure her. "It's not that I don't want to…fondue with you. It's just that…"

A laugh burst out of her as she sat up. "Excuse me?!"

Shaking his head, Steve laughed too. "Sorry. It's a joke, or it would be if Peggy and Howard Stark were here. You see, Stark said…"

"You don't have to explain. I get it. I also get why you put a stop to everything." Again, she held out her hand, and this time he took it without hesitation.

"Thanks for understanding." He gave her a squeeze. "Would you go to dinner with me tomorrow night? Someplace where we can dance."

Her smile of affection was unaffected and genuine. "I'll make all the plans, if you like." Tossing off the blanket, she stood in front of him as he got to his feet. "Right now, I'd just like to get a good night's sleep."

Nodding, Steve gave her a kiss that was filled with promise. "Good night then, Natasha."

Again, he started away, stopping when she took hold of his hand. "Steve, would you stay with me tonight?"

Natasha held her breath while Steve thought over her request. Apparently she thought he needed additional incentive because she tacked on, "I promise there will be no…fonduing."

Still smiling, he lightly touched her shoulders, rubbing small circles. "It would be nice to wake up in the morning and not be alone."

One perfect eyebrow moved upward just a fraction of an inch. "Just nice?"

"Okay. _Very_ nice." He brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek, pleased when she closed her eyes and sighed. "I'll be back soon."

~~O~~

Clint Barton had watched Natasha and Steve drinking and dancing, sensing that his presence, should he make himself known, would be unwelcome. He would've left, but no one knew about his secret perch near the vaulted ceiling of the common area and leaving would call attention to it-and him.

After his friends had gone, he climbed down and helped himself to the rest of the JD in the bottle, a little annoyed that they'd only left enough for a couple of shots. He disposed of the empties, washed the glasses and basically removed all evidence that Natasha and Steve had been in this room recently hours despite the fact that teasing them would provide hours and hours of fun.

Deciding that it was bedtime, Clint headed for his room. He'd just reached Banner's room, empty at the moment, when Natasha's door opened and Steve stepped into the hall. Not wanting to be found lurking, as they called it, Clint ducked into the closet, leaving the door cracked. Steve went into his room, and just as Clint thought the coast was clear, came out again. Steve's door closed, but not before Clint saw that the bed was still made up and he was in his pajamas. The fact that he'd changed and was now returning to Natasha's room told him all he needed to know. His friends had decided to sleep together. Just _sleep_. More than likely it was Steve's idea to wait before getting down to the business of funny business. That they were waiting was a good thing, in Clint's opinion. It meant they'd be friends first.

Normally, Clint would delight in teasing his teammates. However, even he had his limits. And being in love was _not_ to be taken lightly. But what Steve didn't know, or hadn't thought about, was the fact that Stark knew or could easily find out anything about any of them by observation or asking JARVIS.

Stepping out of the closet, Clint quietly entered his room, addressing the air. "J, do me a favor? Two, actually."

"_Of course, Agent Barton. What is it this time?_"

Rolling his eyes at the annoyed tone the AI was using, Clint divested himself of his weapons while he talked. "Don't tell Stark about Nat and Steve, especially not that they're spending the night together."

"_Done, sir. Should I also remove the video recordings?_"

Clint snapped his fingers. "Good idea."

"_And the second favor?_"

"Open Rogers' door for me." There was a millisecond of silence while JARVIS ran through all the ramifications of agreeing to Clint's request. "I'll be in and out in under a minute, and I won't take anything. Promise."

If JARVIS had been human, Clint suspected he'd've been glared at. "_What will you be doing there, if you don't mind me asking, sir._"

Clint waved his hands in the air, one side of his mouth smiling. "Just gonna set the scene, and what everyone assumes from it, well, that's their problem and not mine." JARVIS seemed to waiting for a more detailed explanation so Clint gave it to him. "I'm just gonna mess up the bed so it looks like Rogers slept _here_ and not with Nat."

"_As you wish, sir. Proceed_."

Grinning, Clint hurried down the hall, entered Steve's room and as promised, was out again in under a minute. Satisfied that he'd done his daily good deed, he returned to his own room and got ready for bed.

"_Agent Barton, sir. May I inquire as to your reason for setting the scene, as you called it?_"

Grinning at the ceiling, Clint clasped his hands behind his head. "Some things are sacred, J. True love is one of those things."

"I do believe you are a hopeless romantic, Agent Barton."

"That's hope_ful_, J. I am a _hopeful_ romantic." Sighing with contentment he hadn't felt in a long time, Clint switched out the light and closed his eyes.

~~O~~

Keeping her eyes closed, Natasha stretched her arms overhead. The sun shining in the window reminded her of the previous night and she smiled, thinking of Steve's face when she was teaching him to dance. A soft snore came from her left and she rolled over to brush a few stray hairs from his forehead bringing him instantly awake. "Hey."

"Hey. How did you sleep?"

Steve took her hand and kissed the fingers. "Better than I have in years. You?"

"The same. I just thought of something."

"What?" His tone uneasy.

"Clint, Stark." She didn't have to elaborate. Steve knew what she was saying, that both men would see it as their civic duty to lay the teasing on thick and heavy. What they had to do was head it off before they got wind of it. "JARVIS?"

"_Good morning, Agent Romanoff. What can I do for you?_"

Natasha wondered just for a moment if she'd imagined the slight pause before the AI responded, though it could've been her imagination. One glance at Steve told her she hadn't. "About last night…"

"_If you're requesting a playback of last night's video of the common area, I should inform you that there has been a corruption of the files and the data has been irretrievably lost._"

"O-kay." Again she looked at Steve and he looked back with a shrug. Throwing back the covers, they both got out of bed, meeting in the open area at the foot. "Morning."

Steve returned her smile, drawing her into a loose hug. "Morning."

She let her hands skim over his firm biceps to his shoulders and around his neck, slowly urging him down for a sweet kiss before he returned to his own room.

Left alone for the moment, Natasha booted up her computer in order to put the finishing touches on her mission report before sending it in. Once that was off her mind, she surfed the 'net until she located the perfect place for her and Steve to have dinner. While the restaurant had a website, they preferred reservations to be made the old fashioned way, by phone. She did so, hanging up with a very self-satisfied smile that stayed with her all day. More than once she caught Clint giving her a contemplative look though he never said a word.

Natasha returned to her room after their workout and took a long hot bath before dressing for her date with Steve. She chose a plain white silk blouse that buttoned down the front, the neckline coming down into a V without showing more than a smallest amount of cleavage, and a black pencil skirt that reached her knees. She paired them with modest heels and a soft leather jacket.

Her hope that Clint and Stark would make themselves scarce died when she reached the common area to find everyone but Thor in attendance. Somehow, Banner had been convinced to come out of the lab long enough to have a beer with the guys. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, which he probably hadn't making the beer a bad idea. Natasha doubted it would bring out The Other Guy though.

As Steve joined them, Natasha realized that they hadn't worked out how to keep the rest of the team from finding out that they were beginning a romantic relationship. Not that it needed to be a secret, but Natasha, and presumably Steve, didn't want to deal with the inevitable jokes at their expense. She set her purse down to put on her jacket.

"Where you headed, Nat?"

The breath caught in her throat at the timbre of Clint's voice, like he was trying to tell her something without coming out and saying it. Something like the code they used when on a joint op. But when she looked at Clint, he looked about as innocent as he always did, which is to say, not much. She took a compact and lipstick from the purse as a way to avoid looking at him directly. "To get a bite to eat and take in the outdoor concert at the park."

"What's playing? Maybe I'll go with."

"Kabuki," she stated shortly knowing he loathed that particular genre. "I'll wait for you to get changed, if you'd like to go…"

Visibly shuddering, Clint shook no. "I'd rather have brain surgery using a pair of rusty nose hair clippers and a melon baller." He waved, with the hand holding the beer. "Have fun."

Clint and Steve passed each other on the stairs, but Natasha couldn't hear what they were saying. Steve came to her side not giving her more than a casual glance and a smile of greeting. "You look nice, Natasha."

Steve had also chosen comfort that could be dressed up if necessary. Khakis, a nice shirt with a tie and his bomber jacket. Casual, yet chic though she didn't think he would see it that way. "Thank you. Where are you headed?"

He nodded. "Out to dinner then a movie. The Roxbury is showing a John Wayne film festival."

Natasha was about to offer Steve a lift as a way for them to leave together without leaving _together_ when Pepper solved the dilemma. "Why don't you have dinner together? It's a shame for you both to eat alone."

Steve looked at her and Natasha looked back then they smiled and shrugged, saying in unison, "Okay."

They got into the elevator, Natasha called the valet to have her car ready. She and Steve didn't speak until they were in the car and had pulled onto Stark Plaza. "I made a reservation at The Lindy Hop. It's a forties style club that just opened. Dinner, dancing, Big Band music."

Steve turned sideways as much as he could with the seatbelt on, one arm over the back of his seat. Natasha chanced a quick glance at him, returning his smile of appreciation.

"Sounds perfect. What about your concert?"

She chuckled. "There is a concert. I just said it was Kabuki so Clint wouldn't get any ideas about inviting himself. If you don't want to go, we can stay at the club and dance as long as you like. Afterwards, we can take a walk then go somewhere for coffee and dessert. I know a place that serves an Apple Crumble that tastes like your grandma made it."

"Great. My Grandma Rogers made Apple Crumble for Sunday dinner while I was growing up." Natasha expected him to return his attention out the front window, but he kept his eyes on her profile. "About last night, I wanted to apologize…"

He blushed and Natasha found it sweet. "No need. I shouldn't have tried to rush you."

"It's just that where I grew up most people didn't…"

"Fondue on the first date?"

Shaking his head, Steve chuckled. "I made the decision to wait until I found the one who made me feel complete."

Nodding though she wasn't sure what Steve was getting at. "Okay. I don't quite know where you're going with this, but please continue."

"I spent a few hours in the gym pounding on a punching bag, lifting weights and thinking about everything that happened-and didn't happen last night." Holding her breath because Steve was saying something important, Natasha kept her eyes fixed on the trunk of the car in front of her. "And I've come to a conclusion. As appealing as the Apple Crumble sounds, I'd rather have fondue…with you."

Natasha came to a stop at the light and turned look at him with wide eyes, surprised to see Steve looking back at her with a mischievous grin, one eyebrow raised. With a sweet smile that wasn't sweet at all, she batted her eyes and said, "Why Captain Rogers, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were propositioning me."

Again, the grin. "And if I am, what're going to do about it?"

"Take you up on it. Dinner and dancing first, of course."

They laughed together as the light changed and Natasha waited her turn to pull forward through the intersection. Twenty minutes later, she handed her keys to the valet, tucked her hand around Steve's elbow, entering the Lindy Hop on the arm of the man she finally realized she'd started to fall in love with during the alien invasion.

Steve and Natasha married two years after their first date. They adopted a son, Steven Anthony "Tony" Rogers, and three years after that they adopted a daughter, Jana Margaret Rogers. They bought a home in Bensonhurst where they still live, and have been married for eighty years in June. They have six grandchildren, twenty-seven great-grandchildren and forty-nine great-great-grandchildren with more on the way. Many of their offspring work for SHIELD. You could say being a master spy and assassin is the family business.

**The End**


End file.
